Cyrus the Great
by runner3579
Summary: Cyrus has revealed how far he is willing to go to get what he wants...what happens if his 'love' gets in the way?
1. Chapter 1

Cyrus hated the look his husband gave him every time he showed up late for dinner. Wasn't it enough that he came home, that he had remembered to bring the bottle of wine?

"This is the last time, Cy! The Last—"

Cyrus cut him off without even looking at him. ""Mell went into labor."

It wasn't exactly a lie—false contractions or something like that. She would be fine and it would be all over the news tomorrow…perfect timing in his opinion.

James took the bottle of wine from him and walked into the kitchen. Cyrus could see that this news was only a reminder of how much he desperately wanted a baby. Needed a baby. And Cyrus desperately wanted to avoid the subject.

"So how was work?" he asked, dropping onto one of the stools that lined the counter.

James said nothing. He started to glare, his glasses falling askew. It was another stare that Cyrus knew too well. _His shoes_. As he slipped off the loafers, he could hear his husband pouring two glasses.

"Dinner is cold." James snapped.

"I'm not hungry."

"Cy…I can't keep doing this," he said, shaking his head.

"I know. I'll not be late again, I promise."

"I want a baby."

"We…"

He emptied the glass of wine. Maybe if he was younger. If he wasn't the one that had to keep the wheels of the White House going. Reaching for the bottle, he spoke softly, "We've talked about this before. I…"

James wasn't listening to him. He had stood up and left the room, switching off the kitchen lights. Cyrus sat there and finished the bottle in the dark. It was a strong port, the same kind that they had shared the night the president was elected, the night he had proposed.

Would things have been different if Olivia hadn't come along? If she hadn't snapped Fitz into shape, into the president that he was today? He laughed a little and moved to a recliner in their second living room. This was where James liked to write in the mornings. As he lowered himself into a chair, a notebook caught his eye. It was James' journal. He picked it up and held it in his hands. Reading it didn't cross his mind, but as he laid the journal down, a piece of paper slid out from the cover and there was a name: Hollis Doyle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading. I am sorry that this is chapter is pretty short, but I promise the next one will be much longer. Please post a review. Tell me where you would like to see it go. I've got something in mind, but I love hearing feedback!**

**-I give all the credit to the writer of this wonderful series.**

* * *

Without hesitating, Cyrus jerked back the cover of James' journal. The first two pages were blank. He flipped past them and scanned the flawless cursive. Son of a bitch, it was in French. Shaking his head, he tried to decipher the text, but couldn't get past "lorsque". What the hell was lorsque? The page was dated to last December, before James had gotten onto Hollis' trail. Cyrus sighed. Before they met, James had spent a year working for one of the top daily journals in Paris. This was the reason he occasionally received calls at the house from an old woman named Madame Montand.

Turning back to the piece of paper, Cyrus looked at it one more time. He blinked. Blinked again. Something was wrong. It was blank. He flipped it over. Blank. Dropping to the floor, he looked under the recliner but nothing was there.

_I must be going crazy_, he thought. A month had passed since he had been threatened by Hollis to stop James' articles. His plea in the oval office had seemed to do the trick, but Cyrus knew that James loved his job and if he had so much as caught a whiff of the schemes that Hollis had carried out, nothing would stand in the way of his desire to uncover the truth.

Setting the journal down, Cyrus reached for the cell phone in his pocket. He needed to make sure that James was kept busy with other matters than the ones that could engulf the White House like a flambé set to flame.

* * *

James didn't wait up for Cyrus. He quickly brushed his teeth, changed his clothes and slipped into bed. Before his head hit the pillow, he heard his cell phone vibrate. Reaching for it on the nightstand, he knew that it must be that damned attorney.

"How did you get my number?" he asked, not bothering to say hello.

"We need to talk. There's something I forgot to mention," David replied.

"Look, I gave you your chance already. I met you at the monument and I looked over the documents. A waste of my time, I'll have you know.

"Dig a little deeper, I'm sure you'll find something."

"We are done with this conversation. Don't call me again."

"But you need to hear this—"

James turned off his phone but couldn't go back to sleep. That lawyer had been right all along. He slammed his fist into his pillow. He had taken a creed, an oath to his profession and he had always said that he would follow it to the grave, but now he wasn't so sure. What he had found in that high school could get him killed and what he hated most was that Cyrus could have had a hand in it all. Indeed, his husband was a mastermind, a vicious animal in the political ring and no amount of foreplay or Sunday gardening would make him forget that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you again for reading. Sadly, this chapter is still pretty short, but I will updating soon. Please post a review. **

**-I give all the credit to the writer of this wonderful series.**

* * *

James woke up an hour after Cyrus had left for work. He rolled over and squinted at the morning light that fluttered through the curtains. Damn the sun! He'd have to get some new blinds and drapes pronto. Reaching for his glasses, he fought the urge to lie back down. The bed was so tempting. The only thing stopping him from crawling back into bed was the fact that he could not afford to miss out on an opportunity to contact David Rosen.

Three days had passed since the labor scare at the White House and he had spent two of those in a waiting room, hoping to get prime time coverage of the presidential newborn's entrance into the world. While stepping out for coffee, the persistent attorney had made contact and James knew it was time to let him know what he had found in Defiance.

Showering quickly, he dressed in casual attire and searched for his Starbucks gift card, a treat from Cyrus. If anyone followed him to the coffee shop, and he suspected someone might, James would be looking over parenting magazines and catalogs to his favorite baby stores. Eventually David would pass by—just enough time for him to hand over the memory card.

James went to collect his briefcase from the study when the door bell rang.

"Coming!" He shouted, shouldering the black leather bag. He strode to the front door, wondering who would be calling at this hour. I'm in no mood for _Girl Scou_t cookies, he thought as he checked the peep hole. To his surprise a mousy blonde teen was standing in the entrance. He hesitated for only a second before opening door.

"How may I help you?"

"Are you Cyrus?"

James frowned, peering at the young woman. "Who are you?"

"I'm Becky. You do seem rather young by the way."

"Excuse me?"

She laughed a little, "My mother had described you as an overweight man in his forties. I'm glad to see you've hit the gym since then."

"Listen missy, I'm not in the mood for jokes. Did Ed from the _Times_ put you up to this? He's been after me since day one—

She cut him off, looking over her shoulder "I don't have time for this, but we need to talk. I've got nowhere else to go, and since you're my dad I thought you might—

"What?"

"You're my dad."

"Like hell I am!" he shouted, his face suddenly flushing. He grabbed the door handle to steady the wave of nausea that overcame him. This could not be happening. He took a breath and spoke firmly, "Ok Becky, I'm sorry that you have to hear this from me, but there is no possible way Cyrus can be your father."

"I'm sure the '_Times'_ would think differently," She snapped, looking James over. Her face showed no emotion and he knew it was time for a different approach.

"Let's go get a hot chocolate. My treat," He said, forcing a smile. It was either this or phone Cyrus.

"I'll have a hot caramel." She replied and followed him to his car.


End file.
